GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #565: GALLAGHER

 

So Gallagher died.

My first memory of him was when my stepfather and I would walk to Nu-Time Video, which is loooooong gone now. I preferred Video Magic, but I was stuck with Nu-Time because my stepfather didn't want to drive across town. He would let me get something first, and then he would plant me in front of a row of VHS tapes. "Stay here," he said. He then went through the batwing doors into the back room where they kept the pornos. It just so happened that the videos I was looking at were of Gallagher's specials.

Eventually I tried them out. I was probably seven or eight at the time. Who cares about the talking parts? I was there to watch him fuck shit up with the Sledge-O-Matic. I thoroughly enjoyed that shit. I wanted to be in the front row with no tarp to pull over me. I wanted to bathe in the glory of all that filth.

Fast forward a whole bunch of years. I'm pretty sure this was either during that stretch of 2020 when I was unemployed, or maybe it was during 2021 and I was on sick leave at work due to one of my bouts of pancreatitis. I remember because it was the middle of the week, and I wasn't worried about going to work the next day. Whichever it was, I was at a forest preserve reading when a friend texted me to say that Gallagher was going to be in Bolingbrook, and I should come hang out.

What the hell? Why not?

It's the place that Tailgators in the Zimventures is based on. If you have even rudimentary Google skills, you can probably figure it out what place it is. I remember showing up. I didn't have money, so my friend paid cover for me and got me a drink. And then Gallagher came out.

Whoo-boy. It did not take him long to get into the racist shit. There was standing room only at that point, and my leg was killing me, but even if I didn't have that bad leg, I probably would have made some excuse to get away from that mess. I took my drink outside to the porch, and my friends came with me. Instead of listening to that garbage, we just hung out and got drunk instead.

I heard he eventually got to the watermelon-bashing, but by then I didn't care about it. After he'd finished I heard someone bragging about how she got some watermelon almost in her pussy. To be fair, Bolingbrook is an area that is a bit more aligned with the idea of racist comedy, so the fact that he was cheered was not surprising.

On the way out I saw a sign advertising Gallagher's appearance that night. It proclaimed him to be a "living legend." I pointed this out to my friend and made a jerk off motion.

So yeah. Now he's a dead legend. Oh! And you might have been wondering why I killed Gallagher in this part and this part of Zim Air! Yeah, that's why.

And another thing. Gallagher came to that gig with the idea that people were going to boo him for being racist. No one did, but he had his comeback ready anyway. "Oh come on! I'm old!" Welp. Not anymore.

If someone mentions Gallagher to me, this is who I think of now.